


Homecoming

by thepurplewombat



Series: Homecoming [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: I'm so sorry, Major character death - Freeform, Post-Reichenbach, Reichenbach Falls, Reichenfeels, Suicide, implied major character death, johnlock if you squint, sherlock makes mrs hudson cry, sherlock's timing is bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-29 14:16:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1006400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepurplewombat/pseuds/thepurplewombat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's homecoming doesn't quite go as he imagined</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homecoming

I don’t understand why Mrs Hudson doesn’t stop crying. She hasn’t stopped since I walked in the door and she’d said _oh, Sherlock_ and broken down, and I haven’t been able to get a word out of her.

The flat upstairs is just as I left it, as though nobody has lived there for three years, except that the dusting is done and there are clean dishes in the drying rack. Indentation on his chair, marks on the table I didn’t put there – John has been here, and recently, but not for several days. He’s not here now.

I lose patience with Mrs Hudson and tell her I’m going out. I walk through London, wondering where he is now. He’s not at the clinic – does he even still work at the clinic? I lost track, around…Christ, how long ago? Six months ago? A year? A year, yes. Nigeria. Malaria. Nasty business, and after there simply hadn’t been time to check up on him, everything finally coming to a head and I’d consoled myself that he’d still be here when I got back, in Baker Street where he belongs, that there was something to come home to at the end of it all. I ignore sixteen calls from Mycroft and don’t even glance at the texts. Don’t need to talk to him right now.

New Scotland Yard looms above me and I use one of the alternate entrances I’d worked out – for when Lestrade was being tiresome, or when he didn’t need to know I’d been in.

There’s silence in the bullpen as I walk in.

Donovan’s face is…not what I expected.

What had I expected?

Shock, perhaps. Anger. Not this…horror? Fear? There’s no time to process it before she mutters _Jesus_ and flees, and everyone tries their best to look busy.

Lestrade looks up from his paperwork and as he sees me his face just…falls. There’s an expression on it that’s nothing like I’ve seen before, equal parts grief and rage, and then he’s on his feet and through the door and his fist…

Oh.

That rather hurt. I’ve never much liked being punched in the face.

Lestrade’s shouting at me _What took you so fucking long Jesus Christ Sherlock Jesus_ and he’s…crying? Why is he crying? Relief? No, these aren’t relieved tears.

“Lestrade, calm down. I came back as soon as I could,” I say. “Now, you have to tell me. Where is he?”

For a moment I think he might punch me, but his face falls and he just stares.

“Couldn’t you have come back two weeks earlier, Sherlock? Just two fucking weeks.”

“I came as soon as the work was done, Lestrade. Now what the hell-“

But he’s not listening, he’s talking over me-

“Because if you’d come back two weeks ago, maybe I wouldn’t have had to fish John Watson out of the Thames! Two weeks, Sherlock, he’s been dead two weeks and _now_ you show up?”

And everything

Is

Silent

My mouth is moving but no sound comes out and I just stare at him in silence.

“Oh, _Jesus_ ,” Lestrade says, and I stare at him blankly. “You didn’t know? Sherlock, tell me you knew!”

I shake my head mutely and turn on my heel.

Leave the building.

He runs after me, shouting, but I ignore him and my legs are longer.

I get a cab.

“St. Barts,” I say. “Quick as you can.”

This time, I’ll get it right.

 


End file.
